


The Scouring

by the_pale_rider



Series: World Eaters series [3]
Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Gen, World Eaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_pale_rider/pseuds/the_pale_rider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angron and the XII Legion descend on the world of Ghenna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scouring

Since his return to his sons, Angron had led them into bloody crusade across the stars. At the start, worlds resisted, defiant against the invaders. They had weathered the horrors of the Old Night alone in the universe, they did not need to be forcibly annexed by an empire led by a man so vainglorious to call himself the ‘Emperor of Mankind’. But, in face of the bloodthirsty savagery of the XII Legion, many capitulated and accepted Imperial Compliance, for fear of suffering the same fate as previous worlds. Others still resisted, and few lived to regret it. The World Eaters and their primarch, under the influence of the Butcher’s Nails, revelled in the shedding of blood and violence. Their reputation grew amongst the fleets of the Great Crusade and soon the Legion was reassigned to extermination campaigns against xenos and other enemies of humanity. But, as the Crusade spread further outwards, all available forces were needed. So, the World Eaters were recalled and tasked to bring worlds into the growing Imperium. Despite complaints from Imperial Army commanders and even other Legions, Angron and the World Eaters continued their bloody rampage throughout the segmentums. Worlds fell to their axes. Ghenna was one such world. But on it, the Legion’s degeneration was revealed and resulted in it being publicly censured by the Emperor.

\---------------

As the Storm Eagle touched down in the launch bay of the Conqueror, Khârn mused on the defiance of the world below. As one of more level headed amongst his brothers; he was even considered diplomatic by some, he had been sent to represent the Imperium to discuss Ghenna’s acceptance of Imperial rule. Unsurprisingly, the governor and his cronies had flatly rejected this and demanded Khârn leave before they had him killed. Whereas many of his brothers would have reacted violently, he had merely inclined his head and return to the waiting Storm Eagle. He knew that, secretly, the primarch and the Legion would be pleased with this outcome. A world meekly accepting Compliance never sat well with the most warlike of the Legiones Astartes. The World Eaters were fighters, bound together by a warrior brotherhood few outside the Legion understood. Theirs was a brutal and unforgiving martial pride. But, the Butcher’s Nails, implants inherited from Angron, constantly demanded that the Legion fight and shed blood. They were slaves to its impulses. The fighting pits allowed the legionnaires to feed the Nails’ demands in between campaigns, but it was only a temporary solution. The Legion needed to be unleashed, to sate the Nails’ hunger for violence and bloodletting. Ghenna was just unfortunate to be the next subject at the Legion’s wrath.

He left the launch bay and moved quickly through the Conqueror’s corridors, soon reaching the bridge. Nodding in greeting to Flag-Captain Sarrin, he approached Angron, who was staring out of the oculus at the planet below.

“Sire. They have refused to accept Compliance.”

Angron laughed, a harsh guttural bark. “Ha! About time someone gave us a fight. Mobilise the Legion. Prepare for planetary assault. We shall strike outside the capital.”

Khârn saluted and left to organise his company. As he left, Lotara was already barking orders to her subordinates, ordering them to bring the ship and fleet into position.

Opening his company wide vox channel, he ordered them to muster in the launch bays. Acknowledgement runes blinked across his retinal display, his sergeants receiving his orders. Kargos’ channel crackled into life.

“We’re going to war?”

“Aye. They refused Compliance outright.”

“Fools. They’ll soon regret that decision.”

\---------------

Khârn had always hated drop pod assaults. Trusting his life and the lives of his company to a machine rankled him. But he could not deny the effectiveness of them. Few could react to hundreds of pods dropping from the sky and slamming into their defences.

Strapping into his grav harness, surrounded by his command squad, he tried to focus on the droning of the onboard servitor. The Nails were biting hard, eager for the violence to begin. Clenching his trembling fists, he forced his hearts to slow. Pain flashed across his brain, a punishment from the Nails for his resistance.

“Launch in ten seconds,” droned the servitor.

Khârn could feel the tension amongst his squad. They were all on edge, the Nails flooding their systems with adrenaline and combat stimulants. Soon. Soon they could sate their hunger. With a roar, their drop pod fired, throwing all of them back into their seats. The force of their exit was tremendous. The pod shook and rattled violently as it rocketed through the high atmosphere of Ghenna. Auxiliary rockets kicked in, boosting their speed to a phenomenal level. The internal temperature levels rose to uncomfortable levels as the pod passed through into the atmosphere. Air screamed by as it tore through the sky. Retro thrusters fired, slightly slowing the pod’s descent before it slammed into the ground with bone shattering force. In the next second, the door blew open and Khârn released his harness and was out before the smoke cleared.

He emerged to the roar of bolters and the howling of chainaxes. The Nails were singing, flooding his brain with hate and rage. He screamed as he swung his buzzing axe into the shoulder of the nearest enemy, carving down to his hip. Blood fountained from the horrific wound, drenching his armour. Kicking the dead man loose, Khârn punched another in the chest with his free hand, splintering the ribcage and pulping the organs within. Hurling the twitching corpse into a huddle of soldiers, he slashed his axe left and right, beheading and amputating two men in as many strokes. He could see the red haze descending on his vision, feel the rage building within him. He roared with fury as he hacked through the enemy, never slowing, never stopping. Soon, he was barely Khârn anymore. He was a blood soaked avatar of war. He was unstoppable.

Angron roared as he cleaved through the pathetic scrum of mortals in his path. Widowmaker roared with him, the monstrous two handed chainaxe chewing through armour, flesh and bone with horrific ease. The Nails pulsed in the back of his head, promising serenity if he kept fighting, kept the blood flowing. Small rounds fire peppered his face and armour, little more than insect bites. He had suffered worse. Swinging his axe out wide, he cleaved through a score of men. Howling with rage he drove onwards, hacking his way through the terrified enemy. Men screamed as they died, scythed down by Widowmaker’s whirring teeth. All round him, across the battlefield, his sons were tearing thorough the mortal soldiers. It wasn’t a battle. It was a massacre. But it wasn’t enough. The Butcher’s Nails demanded more, and the World Eaters were slaves to it. Nothing could sate their bloodlust. Soon, there were no enemies left. 

“Hnngh…move into the city,” he growled over the vox.

Angron’s order crackled over the voxnet. Enough the World Eaters had remained coherent to direct their brothers towards the capital. Khârn was one of them, but he knew he would soon be Lost. He could feel his implants buzzing in his skull.

Ragged companies of Wold Eaters formed up and charged towards the city. He was carried along with them, the Nails pounding in his brain. Even after all the bloodshed, they still wanted more. In the distance, he could see Angron leading the charge. Caked in blood and gore, Widowmaker roaring in his hand and howling with rage, it was easy to see why the primarch and earned the moniker ‘The Red Angel’. The Legion ran at a ground-eating pace, closing the distance fast. Supporting armour and gunships followed them, unleashing barrages against the nearest buildings. Angron roared and they roared with him as the Legion reached the outskirts of the city. Khârn screamed as the Nails bit hard. His hearts were pounding. He was barely aware of his surroundings. His vision fogged red. All he could hear was the roar of chainaxes, of his brothers as they attacked the city. 

No one was safe. The Legion was Lost to the Nails. Thousands of World Eaters descended upon Ghenna’s capital and butchered its people.

\---------------

High in orbit above Ghenna, Lotara Sarrin watched the pict screens in horror at the scenes unfolding below. The Legion had gone insane. The vox was useless – all that came through was screaming. The primarch was impossible to reach.

“Ma’am. What do we do?”

She sunk into her command throne, utterly lost. “I..don’t know Tobin. There’s no one down there we can reach.”

\---------------

For the remainder of the day and the night that followed, the World Eaters and their primarch rampaged across Ghenna, slaughtering all in their path. Cities were sacked and razed after their inhabitants were put to the sword. The Legion’s Thunderhawks and Storm Eagles transported them across the world, bringing bloody slaughter to each city. In the aftermath of every massacre, the Nails demanded more; their hunger was never sated, no matter how much blood they spilt. And the World Eaters could not deny its urges. So they moved to the next city. And the next. And the next. Lotara tried in vain to raise anyone on the vox, but no one replied to her hails. Not even Khârn. 

\---------------

He felt he was waking up from a dream. His limbs felt heavy and sluggish, his eyes were unfocused. Slowly his vision returned and he became aware of his surroundings. Blood. Everywhere there was blood. It caked his blue and white armour. It had gummed up the teeth of his chainaxe. He was stood knee deep in bodies. Torn, mangled bodies. He dimly remembered what had happened. Fractured images played through his memory. Violence. Hatred. Rage. Blood. That’s all he could glean from the…last fourteen hours according to his helmet’s chronometer. A voice crackled in his ear. Someone was trying to reach him. It was Lotara.

“What is it Lotara?”

“Khârn. You need to find Angron and get up here. Now. We have a fleet incoming.”

“Who’s fleet?”

“Its size suggests a Legion fleet. They’re translating in-system now. It’s…it’s the VI Legion. The Hrafnkel is leading them!”

“The Wolf King…”


End file.
